"No, no, no, no, no. That's the same game the darkside plays, and I ain't having it--so-and-so knew of their own free will. Gimme a break. If that old man dies on our watch, you think the Light is gonna say, 'Oh, she told him, so it's his bad'? It don't work like that, woman, and you know it. Plus, that mess will haunt you for the rest of your life."
Damali's hands went to her h*ps as shock overtook her face. "Do you think for a million years I'd use some tragically unhappy old man like that, Carlos? Just for a boat? I can't even believe you'd think something like that about me!"
"Keep your voice down," he muttered, pulling her more deeply into the vacant hallway. "Listen, I know how focused you get. I also know how badly you want off this island so we can go get Ayana, Mrs. Filgueiras, and the Weinsteins, okay. That's all I'm saying that sometimes . . . when you get like this, and while looking at the big picture, the details get fuzzy. That's all I'm saying."
"The details aren't fuzzy, Carlos," she said, pointing at him, biting off every word as she spat it out. "I might be focused, which last I checked wasn't a crime . . . but I have never, ever, ever put an innocent in harm's way -- not even for the cause."
"All right, all right, I'm sorry," he said, dragging his fingers through his hair and beginning to walk in a circle. "But . . . why?" Carlos stopped pacing and stared at Damali. "Why this guy? Why this civilian?"
Damali folded her arms over her chest and looked away. "I don't know. Just got a feeling I could trust him."
"Okay," Carlos said, letting his breath out hard. "Look at me, D." He waited until she turned around and faced him, but when she only glimpsed him and then sent her line of vision to the floor, he put a finger under her chin and lifted it. "I want you to replay this conversation in your own mind again. What about this doesn't sound right?"
"All of it," she finally said, letting out a deep sigh. Her shoulders sagged as Carlos's finger dropped away.
"All right . . . progress," he said, glancing over his shoulder toward Monty Sinclair. "But I respect your gut, D. Something drew you to that guy."
Damali looked at him and perked up. "It did, and it was weird, Carlos. It wasn't like my normal second-sight. I didn't see--I felt. The connection to him was hand in glove . . . then all these things about his life poured into my head. So I said a little prayer before I said a word to him. I asked if he was the one I should trust and if I should tell him what I knew . . . and this really bizarre, strange sense of peace flowed over me. That's when I told him what we were up against and what we were--"
"Wait," Carlos said, placing both hands on top of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. "You told him what sounded like mythology . . . about us being Neterus and whatever?"
"Yeah, because it felt right. . . and he started crying and saying that just knowing he had something to do during all of this chaos made him feel like his life hadn't been in vain. He said that evil had been making a mockery out of all he thought was important and this was his way of fighting back, however small a measure that was."
Carlos opened his eyes and stared at Damali. "Did you tell the man he could die?"
"I told him it was extremely dangerous and that we were wrongly being sought by authorities and--" "Did. You. Tell. Him. He. Could. Die?" "Not in so many words; you know I like to stay positive about these things." "D . . ."
"Oh, all right!" She began walking in a tight circle. "Why do you have to be so negative all the time?"
Carlos folded his arms again. "Where I'm from it's called being real."
" Yeah, yeah, yeah--"
"No, D, I'm serious," Carlos argued, pointing toward Monty Sinclair without looking at him. "Before we even get on that man's boat and risk him having a heart attack at sea, we are going to tell him the realio dealio. We're gonna show him fangs, wings, shape-shifts, the whole shebang, aw'ight. If he can hang after that, then we ride or die with him. But if he freaks--I mind-stun him and we send him back into civilian population none the wiser. We clear?"
Damali lifted her chin, dismayed that the entire Guardian team was staring at them and the only one whose head was still bowed in prayer was Mr. Sinclair's. "Okay. Fine."
Monty Sinclair looked up into the faces of the full Guardian squad. His shy, humble manner of speaking kept the team's questions at bay and softened some of the hardness in their eyes.
"You see," Monty said simply and without apology, "my entire family was from here. I went to London to better myself, where I met my beloved wife. We had children and I worked hard. My son even joined the service there." He shook his head. "I have been praying for a miracle . . . and your Damali was that for me. She told me things that I needed to know before I die. She spoke to the spirits who meant the most to me." He stopped and swallowed hard and then his watery brown eyes searched the Guardians' faces. "For the last few days I haven't been listening to the television or radio ... it was our anniversary. I played old calypso and our favorite songs. Today, after I turned on the news, I almost decided--"
Damali's hand on Mr. Sinclair's shoulder stopped his words. As she glanced around the group, she didn't have to tell them that a suicide had been averted. "We're here to let you know that there is good, there is Light, and that angels exist."
"Yeah, but so does the darkside, brother, no offense," Yonnie said, pounding Rider's fist. "I'm just being real."
"I keep telling my wife the same thing," Carlos muttered. "Can I be blunt?" Rider asked, stepping forward. "Why stand on ceremony, man--ain't you always?" Big Mike said, shaking his head.
"Thanks for the endorsement, Mike," Rider said with a sarcastic half-smile. "Did that lovely lady over there tell you that we're wanted dead or alive by about half the governments in the world . . . and that you could have your lovely hundred-and-ten-footer smoked by a U.S. destroyer cannon with you on it?"
Monty Sinclair lifted his chin. "She told me you were freedom fighters and that it was dangerous."
Shabazz slapped his forehead. "This ain't an adventure like you'd see in a Bond film, man. This isn't the movies."
"I am well aware. 1 trust this lady with everything that I am . . . she is an angel--I can feel it." Monty Sinclair squared his shoulders. "I grew up here, as I said, and I know these waters. I made money in my first jobs piloting ships to all the resorts, taking tourists around. I can navigate, and I joined the Navy for some years, and then got my British citizenship," he added proudly, "and then made my money on the Exchange. So if there's a question of my integrity to be able to get you where you want to go--"
"Show him the wings, D . . . I'll get you another tank top when you're done," Carlos said, annoyed. "Then when he passes out, we'll send him home. Okay?"
"Fine," Damali said, lifting the back of her white tank top, much to the chagrin of Mr. Sinclair. "Sir, we are--different. And, what we do to fight evil can get you killed. My husband is right. In the spirit of full disclosure, and out of complete courtesy for all that you've been through, and before you decide to go with us, since once you do, there is no going back, we want to show you so you can really decide. All right?"